


Bentleys and Bathbombs

by threecheersforpete



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #fluff, #seriously it's just a bunch of fluff, #there's also a song by the killers, M/M, Other, Touch-Starved Aziraphale (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threecheersforpete/pseuds/threecheersforpete
Summary: When Crowley realizes how lonely Aziraphale is, he does the one thing he can think of: run the angel a bath.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 299





	Bentleys and Bathbombs

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of @usedtobehmc 's adorable comic on instagram which you should really check out!

Crowley caught the door, pulling it closed against the storm outside. Although only minutes ago the snow was falling in light flakes, as the two were walking back to the angel’s bookshop the weather had taken a turn for the worse, as evidenced by their snow-covered coats and damp hair. Crowley shivered, dropping his coat on the hook by the entrance and turned to Aziraphale who, having just miracled away the remains of the storm from his own jacket, had begun to walk from the entrance into the shop. His cheeks were a beautiful rosy shade, noted Crowley with a slight wave of embarrassment, but his demeanor told a less pleasant story. 

Trying his best not to stare noticeably at the angel’s look of discontent, Crowley followed Aziraphale through the shop towards the pair’s favorite chairs in the cozy back corner closest to the hearth Although the angel had many a chair and couch in his shop and the flat above, the two nearly always gravitated towards the worn old loveseats in the back. 

Although he had appeared to be in a pleasant mood at the Ritz, Crowley detected a slight hesitation in Aziraphale’s usually proper appearance. Since the two had grown closer to one another over the previous few months, the angel had begun to soften up around Crowley. Although he had never quite let himself go completely around the demon, always treating him with respect and sincerity, he had begun to become more susceptible to Crowley’s advances. Once, Crowley remembered with a flush, the two had had a few too many drinks and had awoken laying across an amused Aziraphale’s legs with his head in the angel’s lap, something that would have never happened even a few weeks beforehand. 

Yet, Crowley had the worrisome feeling that the angel’s current behavior was less of a shedding of a proper pretense and more of a resistance. Frowning, Crowley sat down as the angel began straightening the knick-knacks on the coffee table in front of them. Although dinner had been relatively uneventful (apart from a slightly heated debate about ducks), Crowley had a sinking feeling that he may have done or said something to upset the man in front of him. Although there had been a few moments of contention between the pair since Armageddon’t, Crowley would have never intentionally done anything to hurt the angel. Despite what his side seemed to think, the demon would never look upon him with scorn or hatred. Fuck Hastur, Crowley smirked looking at the man shelving books in front of him; he had vowed to only treat him with the pure love that he deserved - that requited love that made life worth living.

He reached forward in an attempt to aid Aziraphale straighten a stack of books, accidentally brushing the angel’s hand in the process. To Crowley’s shock, Aziraphale dropped the pile with a startling crash and looked up wildly at him. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, angel. Are you alright?”

Aziraphale, obviously tense, refocused on Crowley as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh, yes, I’m … fine. Quite fine.” 

The angel’s even voice was not convincing, and as he sat back down shakily Crowley prepared himself. “You aren’t acting yourself. Was it something I said? Is this about the ducks still?” 

The angel forced a chuckle, which turned into an awkward hiccup. Straightening his vest, Aziraphale responded, “Oh, no my dear, it’s not you. It’s …it’s nothing. I’m just fine.”

Crowley, although slightly relieved that he had not truly upset his best friend with their discussion of the aquatic birds, inched closer to the edge of his chair to face the trembling figure in front of him. His eyes cast downwards, Aziraphale was still blushing, but not in the (admittedly) adorable way that he had been earlier. He looked small, helpless even, as if something were eating away at him from the inside. 

“Angel,” he pushed, feeling a pain of sorrow for the obviously hurting creature, “You’ve been flinching all day. What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale’s eyes darted back towards the floor, as he too shuffled closer to the demon. “I’m sorry dear. It’s …it’s just…” The angel didn’t finish his sentence, but his glance towards the mark on his wrist spoke for him. The scar, although small and fading, was a reminder of the time Michael and Uriel had pinned him up against the wall, so hard that his skin had broken. Crowley had asked on several occasions whether or not he planned on miracling it away, but Aziraphale always dodged the question. Until that moment, Crowley hadn’t understood why the angel chose to keep such a painful reminder of his side’s hatred of him, but seeing him trembling in front of him suddenly made sense. 

“Oh, angel,” Crowley began sorrowfully, reaching out towards him, “Angel. I won’t let them touch you ever again, okay? Never.”

Aziraphale sighed, looking back up at Crowley’s distraught face. “I’m sorry dear. It’s not really that, exactly… it’s just… can I… would you mind if…?” he stuttered, reaching forward tentatively to grab the demon’s outstretched arm. Before Crowley could respond, he slid forward and pulled his hand up to his flushed cheek, closing his eyes. “Just a small touch. Oh, your hand feels wonderful Crowley.”

Crowley sat in shock, looking at his poor friend in front of him. As tears began to pool in the angel’s eyes, he began to understand. He softly traced his cheekbone with his thumb, sliding closer to grasp his other hand. Squeezing the hand in a way he hoped was comforting, he cupped the angel’s face as the tears began to fall.  
“It’s been so long since someone touched me and it didn’t hurt.” he sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut. As Crowley continued to caress his now tear-stained face, he thought back to the days leading up to the end. Although the angel stayed strong, choosing their own side and wielding his flaming sword in a way that made Crowley weak just thinking about it, Crowley began to realize nobody had been there to reassure him. Scanning his memories of the millennia with the angel, it hit him like a Bentley going 90 in London that he had never touched him before the preceding few weeks. Not even that, apart from a few formal handshakes and the like, nobody had ever shown him any affection. The poor creature must be starving – no wonder he was sat there before him, crying like he never had before. 

“Oh. Oh angel, I’m so sorry. I understand. Come on, okay? I know just what you need.” Despite his urge to grab the angel and hold him and kiss him right then and there, he decided on a more reasonable plan. Pulling Aziraphale out of his chair, Crowley gathered their coats and wrapped the still-clinging angel up against the cold. Exiting out onto the quiet, snow-covered street, Crowley lead him to the Bentley which he had miracled to become warm. He was determined to show the angel the love he deserved. 

. . .

Apart from the soft sound of tires crunching in the snow as the Bentley raced across town, the only sound inside the car was the radio playing a Killers song softly:

“...So you took your place, but the fall from grace was the hardest part  
It feels just like a dagger buried deep in your back;  
You run for cover but you can't escape the second attack.  
Your soul was innocent, she kissed him and she painted it black.  
You should have seen your little face, burning for love,  
Holding on' for your life.  
All that I wanted was a little touch,  
A little tenderness and truth, I didn't ask for much, no.  
Talk about being at the wrong place at the wrong time...”

Attempting to ignore the precarious irony of the music, Crowley kept one hand on the wheel while still clutching Aziraphale’s hand in the other. The angel was still crying, but was attempting to show some semblance of strength and dignity by wiping his eyes and looking out the window. Squeezing his hand once again to let him know it was okay, Crowley kept driving towards his flat. 

. . . 

Pulling the door closed once again, Crowley turned to face the angel in his otherwise empty apartment. Although at one time he had liked the minimalist decor, the demon suddenly realized just how isolated it made him feel. For the past several weeks, he had been essentially living on Aziraphale’s couch in his small, cozy flat above the shop. He had grown accustomed to the angel’s crowded, but loving atmosphere. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the angel back at his place. It was quite the opposite actually; Crowley had often fantasized about bringing him back to where they stood now, but that was on a different pretense that didn’t matter now. In the moment at hand, the only reason he had brought the angel away from the cozy warmth of the shop was because Aziraphale didn’t have the one thing he needed. 

Smiling weakly, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand again with an abashed look on his face. “I’m sorry, Crowley. I just don’t want to… I don’t want to let go.”  
Crowley, taking a risk that he had wanted to take for quite some time, pulled Aziraphale close to him, embracing him. Resting his chin on the angel’s snowy shoulder, he felt the soft body relax in his arms as the angel breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s okay angel,” he soothed, running his long fingers up into the blond curls pressed against his face. “It’s okay now.” 

Although nothing much had changed, Crowley felt that he had begun to understand the angel even better. He was angry at himself for never before realizing what he had been going through. So focused on controlling his own emotions, Crowley had neglected to see just how much the other had been hurting. He absolutely ached for the poor angel, but no amount of regret could fix the past. At least, Crowley thought while leading Aziraphale down the hall, he would do everything he could to make the angel feel as good as he deserved. 

The pair, still with their arms wrapped around one another, entered Crowley’s dark bedroom. Flicking on the lights with his free hand, Crowley looked around to examine the nearly empty room that had been gathering dust since the apocalypse. Aziraphale sat down on Crowley’s bed, awkwardly placing his hands in his lap and scanning the bed apprehensively. “We’re not going to, you know… that’s not what you had planned right?”

Crowley chuckled. “No, not at all. Just wait here for a minute, okay? I think you’ll like this way more.” Turning, Crowley entered the bathroom. He frowned slightly – he was not expecting to sleep with the angel in his current state. He didn’t want to take advantage of his weakness, it just wasn’t the right time. Nevertheless, Aziraphale’s tone of trepidation hurt him a little. Of course Crowley had thought about being with him in that way; the closer the pair had gotten, the harder it had gotten for the demon to ignore the impulses he felt. He had been sleeping on the couch for weeks, but he noticed the connection between them. Especially waking up with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, he had just presumed things would move forward. Did the angel not feel the same way? Was it all in his head? Crowley shook his head as to clear his thoughts. That wasn’t important right now. Now he had to make sure the angel knew just how much he was loved, regardless of how Aziraphale returned the favor. 

Reaching into the cabinet to grab what he had come into the bathroom for, he turned around to see Aziraphale standing in the doorway, swaying slightly. Jumping up to steady him, the angel in turn grabbed the item out of Crowley’s hand. 

“What in God’s name is a Goddess Bath Bomb?” Aziraphale asked, inspecting the shiny purple sphere with a tired frown on his face. 

Crowley laughed. “You’ll see angel, now go sit back down. I’ll be back in just a second, ok?”

As the angel left, Crowley turned to the antique claw-footed bathtub sitting against the far wall. Crowley rarely used it; he much preferred his state-of-the-art shower with multiple jets and a massage feature, but he felt that the aesthetic of the old tub fit with the flat. Although he could simply miracle the tub full of hot water, he decided that it just wasn’t right. He wanted to take care of the angel himself. He had to. 

After making sure the water coming out of the tap was a good temperature, Crowley went back to his bedroom. The angel was half-sitting, half-laying tentatively on the bed watching him, as if he was still unsure whether or not he truly was welcome, but too exhausted to sit up fully. Giving him a smile, Crowley laid down next to him and gripped his hand.

“Are you doing okay? You seem tired. It’s okay for you to lay down, my love.” Crowley said, without thinking. 

For a moment, he felt a wave of panic set over him – he hadn’t meant to call the angel that, it had just slipped out. What was he thinking – ‘my love’? What sort of cheesy-ass crap was that? He didn’t want to risk losing him. He couldn’t. It was clear Crowley loved him, and he believed the angel returned the favor, but in what way? Were they at that point that it was okay to refer to one another as such? Crowley began to stutter some sort of an apology, feeling the blood rising to his cheeks. What had he done?

However, he had nothing to fear. Aziraphale’s face softened as he slid closer to the demon, their foreheads almost touching. 

“It’s ok, dear. Thank you.” he murmured. “I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I don’t mean to be a bother, it’s just been so hard. It’s been so hard. The other angels, they… they don’t seem to feel things. Oh I’m sure they are capable of feeling emotions, but they don’t care for anything physical. Not like me. Not like… not like us.”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. “Us? Well, it’s the same down below. I mean, sort of. There’s a lot of physical connection. The raves, the sex…” he blushed. “I’ve never really liked it myself. It lacked something. It lacked emotion. There was no love. It just wasn’t what I wanted. So, yeah, us. Us.” The repeated word felt heavy in a way, like something that had never before been said. But, as soon as he said it, Crowley realized it was right. There was an “us”. They were on their own side and didn’t need to conform anymore. Aziraphale smiled and closed his eyes, allowing the still-shaken demon to wrap his arm around his weak body. 

. . . 

Had it not been for the sound of running water, Crowley would have fallen asleep too. However, after a few more minutes, he sat up and gently touched the sleeping angel’s shoulder. He didn’t love waking him up; it was obvious that he needed the sleep. However, Crowley was in too deep and knew what Aziraphale needed more than anything else. 

“C’mon, angel,” he murmured. Follow me. I’ve got what you need right now.” Interlacing their fingers, Crowley lead the bleary-eyed Aziraphale into the bathroom where he turned the tap off and turned back to face the angel. Much to his horror, Aziraphale had dropped his hand and was looking at the demon with a face full of fear. 

“I… uh…I thought this would help. Because, you know, it’s warm and all. And close.” Crowley was mentally face-palming himself. He thought must sound like the sorriest demon in the world. Aziraphale wanted affection, not whatever the hell this was. “But, uh, if it’s not what you want, it’s okay… we can go back to sleep.”

The angel smiled and began to lighten up a bit, seemingly realizing just how upset his expression had made the other. “Oh, no my dear, this is okay. It’s just… I’ve never taken a bath before. The other angels, they frown upon anything remotely sensual. They think it’s sin, you know, to partake in something so… so primal and human as physical pleasure. Of course, you’ve seen me eat and all, and they don’t like that very much either, but nothing like this. I’ve never allowed myself to…”

The angel trailed off, staring almost longingly at the tub of steaming water. Crowley was taken aback. He had never even taken a bath? Something that was far from sexual, something that should be partaken in periodically for comfort? The thought of how cold and lonely Aziraphale must be drained Crowley. The poor angel was absolutely starving and he began to feel tears come to his eyes just thinking about how utterly alone the other must feel. He didn’t even know what to say to such an admission. What was there to say? How does one apologize for millennia of isolation? Crowley didn’t want to insult all of heaven to the other’s face. Of course, Aziraphale was angry at them, especially at that prick, Gabriel, whom perpetuated the cycle. But Crowley was angry. The angel was hurting himself, trying utterly to not invoke his side, but was slowly weakening. How could Crowley have been so blind?

“You’re not an angel.” Crowley stated, bluntly. Shit, that didn’t come out like he meant it to. “I mean,” he stuttered in an attempt to correct himself, “You’re not really an angel in the same way I’m not really a demon. We’re different from the rest, y’know?”

Aziraphale softened again, his eyes lighting up as the met with Crowley’s. “Yeah, we are. So, what was that weird purple thing you showed me? Was it really a bomb?”  
Crowley laughed, pleased that the angel was beginning to accept the idea that he could be treated with love. He knew he had to make sure that Aziraphale understood it, truly.

“No, angel, it’s not a real bomb. It fizzes when you put it in water, and it turns all purple and it, uh, smells good…” Crowley trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of his admission of his shopping habits. “Of course, you know, I stole it. I mean, who has $10 to spend on a fucking bath bomb?”

The angel laughed. It was the first real laugh Crowley had heard from him in a while, and it felt so good that he couldn’t bring himself to admit that not only did he pay for the bath bomb, he was a Lush regular. He shouldn’t have to be ashamed of wanting to smell nice, right?

Handing the sphere to Aziraphale, Crowley motioned to the water in front of them. With another smile, the angel tossed it into the water. When purple bubbles began to form, he let out a little gasp. Crowley, watching the angel’s fixation on the bath, was suddenly aware of how attracted he was. The man whom he had just been curled up with on the bed was so beautiful in an odd way. Yes, his suit was crumpled and his eyes were still red from the tears, but he looked happy. Crowley realized that it was one of the first times he had seen the angel that at-ease since before the apocalypse, and he was beautiful. It wasn’t just attraction though. No, Crowley loved him. Before he could stop himself, he lurched forward, grabbing the angel awkwardly by the arm and stuttered:

“I… I love you.”

Fuck, he had done it again, hadn’t he? Why couldn’t he keep his stupid mouth shut? It was a miracle that Aziraphale was still tolerating him after the last few weeks, and it seemed like too much to ask for the angel to reciprocate. He let go of his arm and took a step back. 

“Uh…” Crowley mumbled awkwardly, fully aware of how red his face was turning. He was glad he was still wearing his shades to hide a bit of his shame. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Ignore me.” He hoped desperately the angel wasn’t going to say anything. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak. Crowley panicked. He didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He wasn’t sure he could take it. Besides, the angel was already having a bad enough day. He didn’t want to make it worse. So, Crowley did the first thing he could think of. Stepping to the side of the beautiful man in front of him towards the tub, he grabbed his own jacket and ripped it off. Aziraphale stared, open-mouthed as the demon undid his tie and removed his shirt, casting them onto the floor beside them. 

Finally closing his jaw, the angel said, “Crowley, do you want some privacy? You can get into the tub first. I can come back in in a moment.”

Crowley, dumbfounded, nodded. Aziraphale smiled before exiting the room and closing the door softly behind him. Fuck, he thought. He admitted his love for the angel AND his first response was to start stripping? What the hell was wrong with him? Over 6000 years and that was the best he could do? Crowley sighed angrily. He was a fucking moron. He began to unbuckle his jeans. At least, he thought, Aziraphale didn’t comment upon his outburst of affection. That he was grateful for. Also, he assured himself as he dropped his trousers, the angel was still willing to go forward with the demon’s plan. Maybe it was just because he felt sorry for him. Fuck, he thought once again, stripping the rest of the way and stepping tentatively into the tub. He had really messed things up this time. Part of him wanted to get out of the tub, dress, and climb out the window and never return. He could start a new life, right? Nobody needed to know he ever existed. However, as he sunk into the warm water, he knew that he couldn’t turn back. The look on the angel’s face as the two laid in bed together was too much to give up. The particulars didn’t matter, right? The two obviously cared for one another. Plus, Crowley realized with a wave of anger for being so selfish, he was only in this situation because he wanted to make Aziraphale feel better. The utter desperation Aziraphale’s face held as Crowley had first stroked his cheek was heartbreaking. The angel was hurting and he needed to be there to make it better. Nobody else would. 

Looking down, Crowley was relieved that the bath bomb had turned the water a thick shade of plum so that he couldn’t see himself. That would eliminate at least some of the awkwardness. Steeling himself, Crowley cleared his throat and called out to the angel. 

“Aziraphale, you can come in.”

The angel peeked his head through the doorway and, once sure that Crowley truly was welcoming him in, stepped inside. At first, there was a tense moment where neither one spoke. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, Crowley folded his long legs in and sunk into the water. He was sure he had messed up this time. Any moment, Aziraphale would turn around and leave. How stupid was he for thinking his best friend would want to take a fucking bubble bath with him? It was so weird. He should have just stuck with napping on the bed. Much to his surprise, however, the angel took a few steps forward and knelt down next to the tub. Reaching into the water, he grabbed Crowley’s hand. Blushing slightly, Aziraphale made eye contact. 

“You feel so warm in there, Crowley.”

Crowley melted. He wanted nothing more for the angel to climb into the tub with him, to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight, to feel his soft body pressed up against his own. But, he didn’t want to do anything either one would regret. Bracing himself Crowley said, “You can come in if you’d like, but you don’t have to at all though. It’s a little weird, I know.”

The angel smiled. “Yes, it is a little different, but I’m open to new things. I’m so sorry for being so, well, needy today. It’s just that nobody has ever touched me before and, just, your hands feel so good and, well, I was thinking about how scared I was during the trial and I wasn’t sure if I would get to see you again and what if I lost you and…” the angel was rambling feverishly, inching closer to the speechless demon. “And…oh dear!” he exclaimed, pulling back suddenly. “I’ve gotten my sleeves all wet! This is my favorite jacket too!”

Before Crowley could say anything, Aziraphale cast his jacket aside too. He paused in the middle of undoing his tie, looking up sheepishly at the man in the tub. “I’m sorry, dear, could you maybe close your eyes? I just haven’t… I’m not sure…”

Finally finding his voice, Crowley grabbed a nearby cloth and pressed it against his face. “Oh, of course!” he stammered, not wanting to make the angel uncomfortable. “Just get in whenever you’re ready, okay? I won’t take this off.”

The angel murmured his thanks as Crowley leaned back into the water, savoring the warm darkness afforded to him by the towel. He knew that Aziraphale was consenting to this odd form of intimacy, as he heard the angel humming gently a few feet away. He also knew that nothing sexual was meant by this encounter, and yet he still felt giddy with excitement thinking about the angel he loved so dearly being pressed up against his body in just moments. 

“I’m not supposed to wear sock for this, right?” The angel giggled. 

“What?” asked Crowley, in bewilderment. Suddenly, he felt the angel step into the tub next to him. 

“Oh, nothing.” 

Crowley felt the other man’s feet touch his, as if he were sitting at the foot of the tub. He didn’t want to remove the towel from his face, but he wanted Aziraphale to know he was welcome to lay down. He suddenly longed to hold him close, not even in a sexual manner, but to just warm him and comfort him. Unsure what to do, he reached one slender arm out towards the angel. To his relief, he felt Aziraphale grasp his hand and slide down into the tub. Just like Crowley had imagined, he felt the angel’s warm body on top of his, heavy and sensual, like it was a part of Crowley’s own which he had been missing for years and years. All the demon wanted to do was to wrap his arms around Aziraphale and pull him closer. So he did. His arms under the angel’s arms, hands resting on the small of his back, Crowley held him there. 

“Is this okay, Zira?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper in the other’s ear. 

In response, he felt Aziraphale reach up and lift the towel covering his face. Looking down, he saw the beautiful face of his angel. Cheeks flushed red, his curly hair slightly damp, his body (or at least his shoulders; that was all Crowley could see of him) glistened with the purple-tinted water. And that smile. Oh, he had never seen him that happy before. He was grinning from ear to ear – partially out of what Crowley assumed was embarrassment, but also out of pure happiness – as he reached up and cupped Crowley’s face with his hand. Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity. Crowley stroked the angel’s back softly with one hand and played with his soft blond curls with the other, keeping him as close as he could. Aziraphale, in turn, had his other arm wrapped around the demon. 

It probably was only half an hour, Crowley couldn’t be sure, but he eventually felt the angel’s breathing steady and his arms go limp. The poor thing was absolutely exhausted, and Crowley couldn’t blame him. He had been through so much, and seeing him happy and safe was almost more than Crowley could handle. Continuing to stroke his hair, the demon checked to make sure he was truly asleep. Satisfied with the fact that he was, Crowley sighed.

“Angel,” he whispered, quietly enough to not wake him, “I meant what I said earlier. I know it was sorta out of the blue and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, but I mean it. I fucking love you. I have for quite some time, you know? I’m sure you probably know, being able to sense love and all, but I just needed to tell you. I needed to say it aloud, to make it real, you know? I know you can’t hear me right now, but I’m sure I’ll tell you all of this in time. We have plenty of that, now don’t we?” 

Smiling, Crowley continued for several minutes, praising the angel in every possible way he could, unloading everything he had felt for years and years, just loving him. Eventually, growing tired, Crowley fell quiet but couldn’t help but stare at the man lying on top of him. He was beautiful in every sense of the word, his perfect face pressed against Crowley’s own chest, rising and falling softly as he breathed. 

They must have laid like that for hours, Crowley realized, as he found himself having to miracle the water to become warmer at least several times. However, at some point, Crowley found his arm beginning to become sore. He attempted to move as slowly and gently as possible as not to wake Aziraphale. The angel stirred and Crowley’s breath hitched, trying his best to stay still. Fortunately, he settled back down on Crowley’s chest. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. The poor thing needed sleep, and he was there to help. Beginning to feel tired himself, the demon closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around the sleeping angel. Thinking of the song he had heard playing earlier, Crowley hummed softly:

“…Holding on for your life…  
But you can’t survive…  
When you want it all…  
There’s another side.”

As he finally began to drift off, he felt the angel stir once more. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see the wonderful blue eyes staring back up at his own. Aziraphale was glowing, Crowley thought, he looked so beautiful. However, after staring longingly for a few seconds Crowley realized something – the angel actually was glowing. 

“You’re…your halo, angel, it’s…” Crowley managed, fixated on the beautiful creature. It had been years since he had seen the angel, his angel, this happy. He was, Crowley admitted, absolutely stunning, 

Aziraphale lifted his head slightly and smiled up at the demon. “I love you too, my dear. More than the whole world.”

Crowley blushed, once again, but didn’t try to hide it this time. Pulling the angel closer, he pressed his lips to his forehead as the pair drifted off.


End file.
